Waking to think of you

A heavy grey cloud sits low between a sleeping window and the sun, with two small hands reaching up through the gap toward the light, straining but not yet touching it.

Lord, I wake from sleep, and I wake to think of you. But why not with sudden, glorious joy? Why don’t heaven and earth burst on me in all the brightness of a newborn day? Why does a cloud hang between you and me? The moment my eyes meet the morning, my soul should rush, out of breath, to hold on to your feet, my Father. Amen.

Awake, my glory! Awake, O harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn.

Psalm 57:8 (BSB)

Adapted from George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul (1880), in plain words. The verse is from the Berean Standard Bible (public domain). Drawing: Mutter.